


Nightmares

by Lady_Rubik



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/M, Hurt Natasha Romanov, M/M, Multi, OT5, Polyamory, Writing practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Rubik/pseuds/Lady_Rubik
Summary: Everyone goes through something. It's life.Natasha Romanoff suffers nightmares, but she does it alone.
Relationships: Clint/Bruce/Tony/Thor/Steve, No Nat -, OT5 - Relationship
Kudos: 21





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a practice draft? I don't know - just something to experiment around with.

She’s drowning. 

  
  


It feels like she’s drowning. 

  
  


The broken tape plays in front of her, rewinding the events of the Red Room in front of her. The shouting, the beating, the pain of her body as she fought for her life over and over until there were no tears left to spare. No other widows left. Only numbness. 

  
  


And it hurts. 

  
  


No matter how many times Natasha blinked to save herself, she wouldn’t wake up - trapped inside her own head. 

  
  


Screams fill her head, echoing and bouncing off the walls of the building until Natasha can’t take it anymore. It’s torture as her heart begins to race. She can’t run away, paralyzed and still forced to watch. 

  
  


And it hurts to breathe, struggling to intake air without it burning her throat and chest as she feels cold fear wash over her. Black Widow felt no fear, so why did she? 

  
  


Why did she fear? 

  
  


And the scene keeps playing over and over, so vivid she can taste the blood on her tongue, red as her hair. Red as the room with blood painted all over it. 

  
  


Heat blossoms and spreads throughout her; the pain starts to become unbearable as she can breathe no longer. It feels restricted. Natasha can’t breathe. 

Her heart is now pounding loudly and the screams are louder, a ringing in her ear that she wants to stop - to cover them and yell at them to stop!

  
  


Then the voices start. 

  
  


Whispers at first, before escalating to yells and more screams. The ringing is louder, and Nat’s head hurts. She can’t focus and everything hurts and she’s drowning and she wants to claw at her throat to just breathe-

  
  


Natasha wakes with a start, inhaling with a sharp intake and staring up at the ceiling. Her heart is racing and the redhead is trembling on her bed. That’s right. She’s in her bed and no longer in that building. 

  
  


The screams are still echoing in her head, flashes of the nightmare fresh on her mind like flashes of light as she moves to sit up, calming herself down by counting. 

  
  


‘Miss Romanoff?’ Jarvis’s voice sounds from above, and for once it scares Natasha but she doesn’t flinch externally. ‘Your heart-rate is unusually high. Would you like some breathing exercises to help calm it down?’

  
  


And the A.I is a saint, really. He’s been trying to help Natasha these past few weeks with her night terrors, but nothing helps. He could only offer the most help he could without telling anyone, by Natasha’s request. Not even Clint. No one. 

“Not tonight, Jarvis.” Natasha croaks out, and it feels like her throat is dry. She clears it, moving to push the covers off and sit on the edge of the bed. Her heart rate was coming down on its own as the nightmare faded away with each ticking second.

  
  


One quick glance at the alarm clock shows that it was only five past three in the morning, and Nat lets out a defeated sigh. The redhead finally stands on shaky legs before she wills her body to still itself, shaking herself off before walking out of her room. 

  
  


The assassin makes her way to the kitchen, rubbing her face to get rid of the remaining sleep before she grabs a glass in order to down some water. By now, she feels an eerie calm come over her in the dim kitchen light and darkness surrounding. The redhead moves to the windows, looking out of the tower and towards the ground where the city that never sleeps still moves in business.

  
  


Never sleeps. New York never had their sleeping nightmares, but only when they were awake did they have them.

  
  


Whether she was awake or asleep, Natasha had her nightmares playing before her eyes on rewind nonstop. She truly couldn’t escape it, but not like she’d want to.

  
  


Natasha was made into an assassin. Nothing else. A Black Widow - a woman of death that never sleeps. 

  
  


Everyone on the team had nightmares. Natasha couldn’t count the times she woke up and one of the others was always awake. She always comforted them and never told them she was awake for the same reason. 

  
  


“It’s my instinct.” She would always say. 

  
  


No one questioned it. They probably did silently.

  
  


Nat downs the last of her water, holding the empty glass in her hand before she eventually slides down to sit and lean against the floor to ceiling window, just watching the moving lights. Not like the redhead could go back to sleep now; she didn’t want to see the vivid images anymore. She wanted to breathe.

  
  


And sometimes, the nightmares would change. They’d show her teammates, her family, dying right in front of Natasha and she couldn’t do anything to save them. It would feel so real, and it would hurt every time. Those are the ones she hated even more than the Red Room.

  
  


God forbid she have a bit of happiness in her life. 

  
  


And Clint, the one where she’s hanging onto a cliff, holding onto Clint’s hand and not wanting him to let go to fall to his death.

  
  


She wishes she was the one to fall. And she would be. Natasha would gladly take the place of her closest friend. 

  
  


Nat curls against the glass, feeling cold but not moving from her spot. The light from the kitchen is comforting in the background, combined with the lights of New York, moving about and fluttering in mesmerizing patterns. 

  
  


The redhead breathes onto the glass, a small patch of fog growing before disappearing and she adjusts her position once more. The proper decision would be to go back to bed, but Nat didn’t want to go into that room and be reminded of her nightmare. 

  
  


So she slips her eyes closed, quickly falling back into a dreamless sleep. 

  
  


When she wakes up once more, she’s slouched over with hushed voices heard in what she assumes is the kitchen. She feels droopy, body not willing to move, but she knew she wasn’t in any danger. 

  
  


Footsteps approach her before stopping, but Nat doesn’t open her eyes, and the voice speaks once more. 

  
  


“Steven,” It’s Thor. “Come.” 

  
  


Natasha was a master at making herself appear still asleep, keeping her breathing even and her body still relaxed against the glass. Even though that certain position was uncomfortable, it wasn’t so that she couldn’t deal with it. 

  
  


Another pair of footsteps walk over, and this time, it’s Steve talking. “Why is she out here?”

  
  


“I am as clueless as you, Captain… Sleepwalking?” 

  
  


“Nat doesn’t sleep walk.” Steve answers, voice coming closer. From the rustling of clothes, Nat figures he’s now kneeling down next to her. A hand comes up to brush against her cheek. “Doll?” He tries, but Nat doesn’t respond even if they both knew she was awake to some extent. The redhead was the lightest sleeper out of them all. 

  
  


From the rustling of clothes, she can tell Steve stands and it’s Thor’s turn to kneel down. Natasha is surprised to feel his beefy arms wrap around her body and lift her effortlessly. A pair of lips press against her forehead. “Sleeping out here in the open will do her no good.” Thor mumbles from above so Nat assumes Steve kissed her. “I shall lay her to rest back in her quarters.” 

  
  


“That sounds good.” 

  
  


And Thor begins walking back to Natasha’s room as she recognizes the turns and stairs. 

  
  


Soon, Thor enters her room and places Natasha back onto the bed, pulling the covers back over her. The Asgardian leaves a lingering kiss on her forehead before walking out, the door creaking. Nat waits until she knows Thor is gone and opens her eyes, seeing the 5 am on the alarm clock. 

  
  


Natasha sighs, feeling very alone right now but not moving. It wouldn’t hurt to get at least a couple more hours of shut-eye, as if it was a day off tomorrow - well, today. So she closes her eyes, turning on her other side and willing herself to sleep once more. 

  
  


When Natasha wakes a third time, the sun is clearly up as it streams into her bedroom. The redhead lays there, turning to look at her clock. Five until 8 am. Nat wasn’t tired anymore, so she threw the blanket off her body and moved to stand, stretching and quickly using the restroom. 

  
  


Might as well face the others who are more than likely in the kitchen. It’s not like she could hide forever. 

  
  


Nat fixes her tee before walking out of the room silently and back down towards the kitchen. There are voices carrying throughout and she slips into the kitchen, immediately grabbing an apple from the counter. 

  
  


“So you aren’t dead. Shame, thought I was gonna have to come and get you.” Clint chuckles. Nat looks over at him, leaning against the counter with Bruce currently cuddled up to him. The scientist’s head was lying on the archer’s shoulder and he looked pretty content there. 

  
  


Nat rolls her eyes and takes a bite out of her apple, moving to sit at the bar. Steve is at the stovetop cooking and Thor is munching on pop tarts, engaged in a conversation with the blonde. Meanwhile, Tony is already seated at the bar, a cup of coffee in hand as he busies himself with his tablet. 

  
  


It was very domestic, and even if they all were in a poly relationship, Natasha wasn’t. She couldn’t be included and mess everything up. Although, they all know they like her, and she knows she likes them. It’s unspoken, but it’s as if she’s a part of it also. 

  
  


“Early morning cuddles? Or a nightmare?” Natasha asks, because Bruce wasn’t immune to them. In fact, everyone on the team got them from time to time- the only person who didn’t get them frequently was Thor, but then again the guy did spend most of his time dead asleep. 

  
  


“Yeah, the latter,” Clint answers, landing a soft kiss onto Bruce’s head. 

  
  


Nat doesn’t push it, biting into her apple. 

  
  


“Did you know?” Steve speaks up this time. 

  
  


“Did I know what?” Nat asks, looking up at the super soldier. 

  
  


“With your “instinct”, that he had a nightmare.” Steve clarifies, finishing the eggs. And he’s referring to earlier, of course, he was. Natasha shrugs in response, avoiding his questioning gaze. Thankfully, he doesn’t push it. Out the corner of her eye, Nat sees Tony’s eyes on her and feels Steve’s out-of-corner-eye gaze but doesn’t acknowledge it. 

  
  


Thor and Steve’s quieted conversation continues, serving as a background along with the sounds of him cooking. It’s silent, but not tense. Now, Clint is whispering sweet nothings into Bruce’s ear from what Nat sees and hears. It’s sweet. 

  
  


She can’t help her lingering gaze on them, but keeps it subtle. Natasha couldn’t have that. She’s a Black Widow - she’s made to kill and not to love.

  
  


Soon, a plate of food is placed in front of her and when she looks up, it’s Steve. He offers her a smile before placing one in front of Tony as well, and they share a brief kiss. 

  
  


Her heart aches. 

  
  


Natasha couldn’t experience love. She wouldn’t know what it felt like, because she is merely a tool. A weapon. 

  
  


No matter what others said. 

  
  


She eats in silence at the bar where the others migrated to the table. Clint tried to invite her over by sign but by then Nat had finished, walking off towards the gym as the rest of them go up in laughter about a joke. And she’d just watch from afar. 

  
  


The day passes on fairly normal. She trains for a couple hours, reads in the library for a couple more. She spars with Steve and Clint until Tony joins and they all basically begin tumbling and flirting together. A hot mess of limbs and banter plus an already established relationship equaled time for Nat to leave. By then it’s only 3 in the afternoon. 

  
  


She slips into the kitchen, makes a sandwich, and slips off again to eat it quietly on the rooftop overlooking New York. 3:30. 

  
  


After that, she takes a quick jog on a treadmill for half an hour, shower then opts to watch a movie after. Then it’s dinner at 6. Usually, Steve makes it but Nat decides to just have a TV dinner and sit in the living room, watching Tv with it. 

  
  


The rest trail in slowly, and at 7 they’re all sitting on the couch, watching tv in silence. Nat is surrounded by them but she’s fine. Strangely. 

  
  


After a while, Clint suggests Mario Kart so then it turns into a game night. And they take turns playing against each other and betting and hurling playful insults until it’s 9. 

  
  


Natasha forgot how hard they made her laugh. 

  
  


But she decides to turn in early, since she was on the verge of sleep resting against Thor’s large form. She leaves, saying her goodnites but not missing the way Steve gives her a longing look. 

  
  


She ignores it. 

  
  


Her nightly routine seems short and when she’s finished, Natasha is standing in front of her bed. It’s huge and inviting, but she’s hesitant. Hesitant for another nightmare. They were so realistic, and she couldn’t stand them. But Natasha still slips under the covers, closing her eyes and lying still for sleep to overcome her.

  
  


It’s dark. Very dark. 

  
  


Natasha can’t see. 

  
  


Everything is muffled and her usual senses are numbed. She can’t feel anything.

  
  


Natasha begins trembling, looking around wildly. The redhead found she also couldn’t move, leaving her to stand in the darkness. 

  
  


She forces herself to calm down, controlling her breathing and closing her eyes. It was fine. Maybe it was just one of those impassive dreams. 

  
  


“Natasha?”

  
  


Her eyes snap open at hearing her name, looking in front of her but still seeing darkness. She can’t even move her head to look around. 

  
  


“Natalia. I’m right here.”

  
  


The voice is behind her, but she can’t look. She can’t move. 

“Nat?”

  
  


“Natasha, please look at me.”

  
  


“Natasha, turn around.”

  
  


“Please, I need to see you.”

  
  


The voice isn’t distinguishable but she can tell its one of the team, her boys. And the voice sounds begging, so close yet so far away. She wants to open her mouth and talk so badly.

  
  


“Natasha...why won’t you listen? Why won’t you ever turn around? You’re always ignoring me. Do you not love me?”

  
  


“Please come to me.”

  
  


The voice is taunting her, sounding heartbroken but no sounding bitter and Natasha feels betrayal bloom in her chest.

  
  


“You always ignore me. You always do this. You never let us in no matter how much we ask and beg you, Natalia. Fine then. Since you obviously don’t want to be near me, I don’t want to be near you.”

  
  


And it’s Clint, as the voice becomes clear. Natasha feels herself tremble from trying to fight against the force that kept her body still, a scream building in her throat from the frustration of it all. Not Clint, anyone but Clint. Please.

  
  


Not him too.

  
  


Finally, Natasha can turn around, but in slow motion, breath quickening as she watches Clint’s back retreat, walking faster than she’s moving. The redhead finally reaches out as he disappears into the darkness, leaving her alone once more.

  
  


But this time her heart speeds up, and she feels a sense of paranoid dread overcome her. Why was she afraid of being abandoned? Black Widow needed no one. 

  
  


Her handler always said to never make attachments --- how they’ll be the downfall of any skilled assassin. But Clint was her closest friend. 

  
  


He was more than a friend.

  
  


Natasha feels the ground begin to slowly suck her in, but no matter how much she tried, it wouldn’t let her go. She tried to struggle and pull herself out, but it still engulfs her until the tight presence is around her and further sinking her.

  
  


The pressure is so tight she can’t breathe in.

  
  


It begins to burn against her chest and throat as she tries to intake air, paralyzed and realizing this was truly her death. She was going to die alone and abandoned. 

  
  


This was worse than the Red Room nightmares. 

  
  


Nightmare. It was a nightmare. 

  
  


Natasha tried to will herself awake. Tried to calm herself no matter how hard her heart beat in her chest. But in darkness she remained, drowning further and further and she couldn’t breathe- 

  
  


The redhead snaps her eyes open, suddenly aware of her surroundings as she lays there in disbelief, heart racing in her chest as if she were running. The assassin sits up, rubbing her hand over her face in frustration before slipping out of the bed and storming down to the communal kitchen. 

  
  


Why couldn’t she have a normal dream or no dream? Why was her conscience dragging her down constantly? Was it trying to tell her something?! Was it her own guilt eating her up alive?

  
  


Natasha gets to the top of the stairs before she pauses, seeing the rest still up sans Bruce who is leaning into Steve, asleep. They were watching a movie that looked like it was coming to an end. 

  
  


And crap. Natasha didn’t even see what time it was. It was probably around midnight. 

  
  


She takes one step back until Clint sees her, who is sitting on the angled loveseat - of course her movements wouldn’t go unnoticed by the everwatchful Hawk. 

  
  


“Nat? You’re still up?” He asks, gathering everyone else’s attention. And shit, Natasha was so kicking Clint’s ass in the spar match. 

  
  


“Tash! We weren’t too loud, were we? Blame Thor for that mostly.” Tony states as a joke, even though Natasha can see the masked look of concern. She can see all their different looks except Bruce of course - she didn’t know how he slept in the middle of all that noise. 

  
  


“My apologies if I awoke you.” Thor says with a puppy pout, and Nat waves her hand, already descending down the stairs because well, the jig was up anyways. It was common knowledge how light of a sleeper she was. 

  
  


“No. Just got thirsty.” She easily lies, immediately heading for the kitchen if it were anything to soothe her nerves. Her heart rate has already tremendously slowed but her chest hurts. And she feels as if everything around her would melt into nothingness. 

  
  


Natasha faintly hears the movie come to an end but from what dialogue she picks up, it’s either a cheesy rom com or a terrible horror movie. She doesn’t pay attention anymore as she grabs a water bottle and basically stays in the kitchen to prevent seeing the rest of the team even as they begin to retreat to their shared bedroom for the night. And yes- a shared bedroom is right. 

  
  


With an extra - King sized bed that only Tony could buy, they all sleep together because where else? Natasha was the only one who didn’t sleep with them though they’ve offered many times - however she wasn’t part of their relationship, it wouldn’t work. She’d just have to go back to bed. 

  
  


Clint pops his head into the kitchen, and Natasha gives him a questioning look as he signs if she was truly okay. Natasha nods slowly to confirm she was alright, and signs back for him to join the others. The archer gives Natasha a longing look, nodding before walking off again and leaving the redhead in the kitchen. 

  
  


She doesn’t really want to sleep alone. She doesn’t want to suffer the nightmares over and over like a broken song where she woke up gasping for air. But it’s better than facing whatever reality in which she loses her boys. 

  
  


When Natasha goes back upstairs, she momentarily heads to Clint’s old room to grab one of his old blankets off the bed. Then, the redhead quietly sneaks off to the rest of the once solo rooms, retrieving Thor’s sweatshirt, Tony’s band shirt, Steve’s pillow, and Bruce’s pajamas pants, stalking back to her room with her finds. It wasn’t much and it definitely wasn’t thieving when she’s done it before in the past. 

  
  


It helps. It’s as if they all were there with her.

  
  


When Nat dresses in all the clothes and fixes her head on the pillow, wrapped in her heavy quilt, she feels their mixed scents drown her. She slips into a dreamless, blank sleep feeling as if all her items were keeping the nightmares away. 

Everyone suffered nightmares, but Natalia Romanov did it alone.


End file.
